


Good Hunting

by skinscript (Infie)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Mind Control, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Violence, graphic descriptions of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-06
Updated: 2009-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infie/pseuds/skinscript
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atlantis sends teams to compete in the once in a generation Pegasus fighting competition Shaur’Atan. Once there, it's open season and everyone gets more than they bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Hunting

"Ok, so maybe, _maybe_ , just this once the anthropologists got something right." Rodney said grudgingly. 

Surveying the gorgeous planet around him, John had to agree. The stargate was set on a wide, high plateau surrounded on all sides by mountain peaks. His experienced eye gauged their distance at around six miles linear, which would translate into ten or more over the bumpy terrain. The plateau itself was largely grassland, falling off to his right into a deep forested valley and extending in front and to his left for at least a mile. At its far edge, he could see trees; something similar to a pine or perhaps a fir. A quick glance at his compass labelled his left 'north'. 

Not bad for a planet the Ancients had designated with nothing more than the cryptic statement, "Good hunting." The anthropologists had sent through the requisite MALP and had discovered this vista and no signs of human habitation. The subsequent jumper flight had confirmed it: no settlements anywhere. Just this incredible view, plenty of potable water, and the abundance of game that usually came with mountains and summer. 

Teyla beamed in pleasure beside him. "Truly, the photographs did not do it justice." 

Ronon nodded, slapping Rodney on the back as he strode past. "Don’t forget to pay Forster his hundred bucks," he said cheerfully. 

Rodney frowned. "Let's not be hasty," he said hurriedly. "We've only been here two minutes." 

"Don't worry, Doctor," said one of the Marines. "We'll make sure Doctor Forster knows to collect." 

"Thanks, Sergeant." John said solemnly, ignoring Rodney's glare. "Glad to see you're looking out for the science team." 

Sergeant Jacobs flashed him a wide grin and turned back to organizing his squad. Ronon pulled Rodney forward, shrugging off his ruck and prodding him towards the area he'd staked out as their campsite. The sounds of Rodney's protests rose and fell in a familiar pattern as they started setting up the tents. Rodney should really learn not to bet. He lost _all the time_. John smirked at the thought. 

Teyla's hand on his arm brought his attention to her. "I must thank you again, John, for advocating our participation in Shaur'Atan," she said. "I had believed perhaps we would come, but to have several of the Atlantis teams attend as well, and then to determine an alternate site when the original was destroyed by a storm... It more than I thought." 

John shifted uncomfortably, wishing Rodney was nearby to jump in and take all the credit. Teyla's eyes gleamed with amusement at his discomfort, and his shoulders straightened. "You know it's all Woolsey's idea," he muttered. "Expand our visibility and influence in Pegasus and all that." 

Her smile widened. "I also thanked Mr. Woolsey before we left, but I am aware that you championed our cause." 

"Well, you seemed to think this... Shower-a-ten was a big deal." He was practically squirming under her hand now. 

"Shaur'Atan," she corrected gently. "Yes, it is very important." She noticed Sergeant Jacobs pretending very hard not to listen, and addressed the rest of her reply to him. "It is the Gathering of the People; done only once a generation. It is an opportunity for the many peoples of Pegasus to pass through the ring of the ancestors, to gather to spread our bloodlines and word of our prowess." The smile she flashed this time was almost wicked. "In battle, of course." 

John stared at her in astonishment. Jacobs flushed bright red at the double entendre. 

Teyla continued smoothly, "To win or even place well in the battle competitions is a great honour. There are many rewards for those who are victorious." Again her lips curved in that sensual smile. Jacobs swallowed hard and turned again to his team, bellowing at them to get a move on. 

John wiped a hand over his mouth to hide a grin. "That was downright unkind," he muttered, trying not to laugh. Teyla shot him an arch look. 

"I have no idea what you mean," she said. 

* * *

The gate hummed almost constantly for the entire day, disgorging groups of up to twenty people at a time. By the time the deadline for attendance had passed, almost two thousand had arrived and set up camp. Luckily most of the early arrivals immediately set off to hunt and there was plenty of game to go around. For three days, this would be one of the largest settlements in Pegasus. 

The Atlantis teams had pitched camp near the southern side of the gate, just where the land began to fall off towards the valley. Their tight grouping was unusual; most of the other attendees had spread out and intermingled to the point where there was no clear delineation of cultures or teams. Each participant world wore a sigil denoting their allegiance, but tonight none of those were in evidence. 

Teyla appeared at the entrance to her tent, dressed in Athosian fighting skirt and leather bodice. She'd oiled her skin and it gleamed in the firelight. She sent John a quick smile before melting into the night and joining the revelry. John lifted a hand in acknowledgement, smiling a little at the quick dark shadow that was Ronon slipping away as well. 

Rodney dropped down on the log beside him, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder to help balance himself. John tensed to hold the weight then leaned a little against Rodney's arm once he'd settled. 

"You think Teyla's going to... uh." He made a complicated gesture that looked a little like he was trying to create a cow shadow animal. Or, perhaps, decapitate a chicken. 

"None of our business, Rodney." 

"No, no. Of course not." Rodney coughed and shifted uncomfortably. His leg slid against John's and a soft wave of heat rolled up John's thigh. John turned his face away to hide his reaction to the sweet friction. Rodney pulled out his handheld combination life signs detector and energy tracker and started to tinker with it, the occasional hum or mutter marking his progress. "You know, there's an interesting low level energy signature here," he said suddenly. 

"Is it a problem?" John only really asked out of habit. The fire and the touch of Rodney's leg against his took all his attention. "Why didn't the MALP see it?" 

"Too small and diffuse for the MALP," Rodney replied without looking up. "It's very light. Could be the plant life." 

John leaned a little and plucked the device out of Rodney's hands, tucking it firmly back into Rodney's vest. "We're here for the festival," he said firmly. "If it's the plant life, it can wait." 

In the distance, a throaty feminine laugh pealed out, drawing their attention. An equally husky male chuckle answered it, ending in a drawn-out groan. 

John cleared his throat. He felt Rodney shift a little beside him, likely easing the fit of his pants as more sounds started around them. High-pitched giggles, gasps for breath and deep moans slowly morphed into rhythmic grunts and the unmistakable sounds of flesh on flesh even as other couples started the same dance. John closed his eyes and struggled with the desire to join them. Rodney moved again, and John clamped a hand on his knee to keep him still; to keep him from continuing that maddening _rubbing_. Even over the smoke of the fire he could smell the thick scent of Rodney's sunscreen, could feel the heat radiating from his body like he sat beside a fire instead of in front of one. The sounds of sex completely surrounded them. 

After a long moment, Rodney put his hand on John's. The calluses on his fingers sent tiny sparks shooting across John's skin, and his fingers tightened. 

"That's going to bruise," Rodney said softly, carefully. With a conscious effort, John relaxed. Rodney flexed his leg a little, and John's hand slid up his thigh seemingly of its own volition. He felt Rodney suck in a breath. The couple to their right sounded as though they had reached a crescendo, but the noises suddenly diminished to the sound of the male voice muttering 'not yet, not yet, not yet...'. John bit his lip and let his fingers continue to slide. 

Rodney's breath was coming faster, and John could feel him trembling. His hand on John's was shaking. "John," he said intensely. "We don't do this." 

John ignored him. He could feel the heavy bulge of Rodney's cock against his pinkie and it made him groan. Rodney shivered in response. 

"John." When he moved as if to cup Rodney's erection, Rodney grabbed his hand and gripped it hard. "Look at me." 

Reluctantly, John turned his head, opening his eyes. Rodney was staring at him, cheeks stained red with heat. He didn't say anything, just let the expression on his face do the talking for him. 

As usual, Rodney couldn't leave it at that. He blinked rapidly as if testing whether or not he was awake then asked, "What are we doing?" 

John licked his lips and deliberately moved his hand to cover the bulge in Rodney's pants. He let his fingers map its contours, pressing deliberately into the hard flesh and loving the way Rodney's eyelashes fluttered as the sensation bowed his back. He wanted it to be absolutely clear what they were doing, but he couldn't seem to talk. 

Rodney huffed out a calming breath and carefully removed John's hand from his crotch. John let him, turning away to watch the fire. His own erection was straining at his pants, and he was pretty sure that it would take him all of about three strokes to finish himself off with all the porn noises still going on around their campsite. 

"Well?" 

John looked up to find Rodney holding out his hand in a clear demand. Slowly he smiled, a sensuous curve of lips that John hadn't realised Rodney was capable of. "Come on," he said. 

John took his hand and followed him into the tent. 

Rodney pulled him down on their sleeping bags, rolling John onto his back and leaning over him. He lifted a trembling hand to John's cheek, trailing one finger over the sweep of his eyebrow, down the plane of his cheek and coming to rest on the curve of John's lower lip. The finger moved softly, asking permission. John opened his mouth and touched with the tip of his tongue. The roughness of the callus and the salty taste almost undid him right there. He lifted his eyes to Rodney's. 

Apparently it was the signal he was waiting for. He pressed inside John's mouth, stroking gently against the pad of his tongue, tickling a little. Reflexively John closed his mouth and swallowed, sucking the finger deeper. 

Rodney closed his eyes and moaned, dropping his head to John's shoulder and shuddering. John gripped Rodney's wrist in his hand and pulled, rolling his hips in time with the hard sucks on Rodney's finger. 

Rodney pulled away with a kiss to John's neck, freeing his finger as well, ignoring John's mutter of protest in favour of placing his hand over John's heart. He looked at John with hot eyes, catching John in the intensity of his gaze. It made his heart race in his chest, made his whole body flush with heat. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Rodney dragged his hand down John's chest until he reached the waistband of his pants. His fingers tangled in the fabric of John's shirt. 

He tugged it loose with tiny movements, caressing John's stomach through the shirt. Each pull rubbed the soft cotton against his skin under Rodney's fingertips, each tug generated friction as the shirt slid in increments between John's pants and his skin. The entire time Rodney stared directly into his eyes, catching every nuance of the effect that he was having. By the time he'd worked the t-shirt free, John was gasping for breath. 

He pulled the t-shirt up enough to work his hand underneath, careful not to touch. He paused and licked his lips with his hand suspended, until John could feel the heat radiating from it. He held his breath. 

Rodney leaned forward until his lips were only a hairsbreadth away from John's, and placed his hand firmly against his stomach. John gasped, and Rodney captured his moan with a kiss. His hand was firm and hot, unmoving on John's stomach, Rodney's long fingers almost spanning from hip to hip, his palm centred over John's navel. It felt as though there was a direct line between it and John's mouth, where Rodney's lips slid with slick pressure against his. It felt _amazing_. 

John reached down and fumbled his zipper open, closing his eyes in relief as the pressure eased on his erection. He licked at Rodney's mouth, raking his free hand behind his head and holding him in place, pulling him even closer. Rodney's fingers spasmed against his stomach, making John arch into him as the tiny sparks of sensation shot to his groin. His fingers circled Rodney's wrist, urging his hand lower until it was snug against his cock. 

He released Rodney's wrist and reached for his pants, undoing the button and zipper with considerably less skill than his own. Rodney's hand, trailing idly along the length of his cock was largely to blame for that. It was so lightly done that it was like torture, if torture could be accomplished by unbearably soft caresses. John was shuddering with each touch, straining to get more pressure even as he fumbled Rodney's pants open the rest of the way. 

Rodney pulled his mouth away to blaze a trail of heat down the length of John's neck, nipping a little at the base of his throat. His fingers shifted, _finally_ encircling John's erection completely and giving him a firm squeeze. John's breath stopped in his chest. 

He surged up, rolling Rodney back onto his back and sliding on top of him. Both his hands came up to hold Rodney's head in place, his thumbs falling just under the curve of his jaw, tilting his mouth up to meet John's kiss. He rolled his hips, aligning their erections. Rodney grabbed his ass, pulling him down hard. John started to move, letting the pattern of Rodney's breathing set the rhythm. It was slow and deep, and John softened his kiss to match. 

It felt like it continued for hours, that long slick glide of flesh on flesh, the soft feel of Rodney's mouth against his neck, his shoulders. Clothes came off, muscles slid and bunched under hot smooth skin. They moved together in a comfortable rhythm, one that rolled through John like the ocean lived under their skin. 

The build was so slow and exquisite that when his orgasm crested it took him by surprise. His whole body stiffened and he drove his hips down hard, once, twice. It blasted through him like he was riding the perfect wave. It felt like flying. 

Rodney's arms tightened around him and he gasped, a sudden flood of heat between them signalling his own completion. John buried his face in Rodney's neck, completely undone. Rodney took a deep breath and pressed his forehead hard against John's shoulder. It was long minutes before they disentangled and cleaned up. 

It was only after Rodney was asleep that John realised he hadn't said a word the entire time. 

* * *

That pervasive feeling of unreality was lurking behind John's eyes when he woke. A quick glance around showed the tent empty except for the tumbled sleeping bags, John's TAC vest, and the lingering smell of sex. John rubbed his eyes. They felt gritty under his fingers. 

"Yo, Sheppard! Time to eat!" A small snick told of Ronon tossing a stone at the closed flap of the tent. John groaned but rolled to his knees, dressing rapidly. Even as he moved, energy started flowing back through his veins, revitalizing him. By the time he drew on his boots he was almost humming under his breath, jittering a little with the need to _move_. 

Ronon was already up and cooking something over the small fire, handing pieces to Teyla who wrapped them in warm leaves into tightly tucked packages not unlike egg rolls. He paused in his movements to toss John a canteen. 

Jacobs, Malek, and Biggs all had their teams up and running. He could see the Atlantis soldiers moving around, preparing for the day's events. There were no obvious signs of the events of the night before, though he could see that some of the team members were moving a bit gingerly, and Ronon's left bicep had a large bruise on it. Teyla's neck sported a hickey that she touched a couple of times as he watched, and he bit back the desire to run fingers over his own throat to see if he was showing similar evidence. 

John raised the canteen and drank greedily, ignoring the trickles of water down his neck. "Rodney?" Ronon jerked his chin in reply, and he turned to see Rodney sitting on a nearby rock bent over his handheld and muttering to himself. Teyla followed his gaze. 

"He wanted to get some more readings before the competition begins," she said. John nodded and checked his watch. 

"You have time to eat," Ronon told him. Teyla passed over a couple of the small leaf-rolls. He took one and gingerly took a bite. It was good. 

"Here." Teyla gave him several more rolls and gestured to Rodney. "Rodney must also eat." 

The Ancient device was blinking cheerfully when John peered over Rodney's shoulder. For a second everything blurred around the edges, like he'd come up from underwater. He blinked, and everything was back to normal. John frowned. 

Rodney jumped. "Jesus! You startled me." He turned on his rock to face John, waving the energy reader under his nose. "It's stronger today. Still diffuse, no specific pattern or location... more like it's emanating from the rocks or something." He noticed the look on John's face. "What?" 

John closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could. After a minute, he opened one eye tentatively. Rodney was staring at him, starting to look nervous. 

"Seriously, John, what is it?" 

John shook his head. "Just checking," he said, ignoring the annoyed look on Rodney's face with an internal smirk. He passed over the breakfast. "So, these energy readings. Anything to worry about?" 

"They could be," Rodney told him with his customary blunt honesty, chewing fast. "They could be signs of basic instability in the area, or some device. Or we could be on a mist planet..." His eyes were getting wider. 

"The MALP would have seen that," John reminded him. 

"Right." 

"So nothing immediate, then." 

"Uh. No." 

"McKay! Sheppard!" Ronon called them, standing tall and imposing beside the fire. He was spinning his blaster idly in his hand. Teyla stood beside him, her bantos sticking up over her shoulder. A wide grin split his face, showing his teeth. "Time to hunt!" 

* * *

"Time to _hunt_?" Rodney muttered, leaning close to John's ear. "I should have paid better attention at the briefing, shouldn't I?" 

Teyla shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Yes," she said frostily. "You should have." Any further chastisement was interrupted by the appearance of the council. They'd chosen a high, flat rock near the southern slope as their podium, and the listeners filled the slope almost to the tree line. 

"It is time for the first competition," the organizer, Yelan, announced loudly. His words rolled out over the crowd, echoing slightly. 

"Good acoustics." Rodney whispered, looking impressed. John pinched him to shut him up. 

"Here are the rules of the competition." Yelan held up his hand and the crowd subsided into utter silence. "Each team will choose an identification from the bag. Each team will contain a minimum of three warriors, and a maximum of twenty warriors. The border of the field of battle has been marked. The teams are not permitted to cross the border. Each team member will choose from among the approved weapons here." He gestured at a large pile of staffs, bantos, and other wooden weapons. "All attendees, including myself, will compete. Anyone not competing will go through the gate." 

Rodney groaned. 

"Ambush is permitted. Hiding is not. The competition will continue until a single winner emerges. The signal to disperse is a white light in the sky. The signal for the official beginning of the competition will be a red light in the sky." Yelan held up a marine flare, courtesy of Atlantis. "These are the rules of the competition. Is all understood?" 

The crowd roared agreement. 

"Then we are begun. Select your weapons." 

John could have sworn he felt a click twang through his head, like someone had flicked him against the back of his head. He blinked and lifted his hand to check, but there was nothing there. 

"So," Jacobs said from behind John's shoulder, shouting to be heard over the furor. "We competing as one team?" John tore his eyes from the enormous hickey on Jacobs' neck with an effort. Ronon snorted. 

"Let's play it out as individual teams," John agreed. "Might as well let you guys strut your stuff against the best." 

Jacobs nodded slowly, looking grave. "Not a bad idea, sir. I have heard that Major Biggs could indeed prove a challenge." 

John grinned, showing his teeth. Ronon strode over to the pile of weapons and chose a staff easily eight feet long and made of a heavy, solid wood. He handled it easily, making it look like it was made of balsa. Teyla slid her own pair out of their back sheath and presented them to one of Yelan's team members, who inspected them closely and nodded. She tucked them under her arm and reached into the sack of team sigils, pulling out a white armband with a large, vaguely diamond-shaped leaf on it. John wheeled on Rodney, glaring. 

"How did you manage that?" 

Rodney just grinned smugly and took his armband. 

"Seriously, McKay. A Canadian flag?" 

"This isn't a maple leaf," Rodney pointed out innocently, handing John his. John tried to make him combust with the power of his will. 

Ronon tied his own armband tightly, slapping Rodney on the shoulder. "Good work, McKay." 

* * *

It took more than three hours for all of the teams to get equipped with their armbands and weapons, time the Atlantis teams made good use of to eat, pack potentially useful tools, and in the case of the Marines, nap. Still by the time the last competitor was prepared they were all on their feet watching the sky, bouncing with impatience. 

The white flare arced up over the plateau. 

John let Ronon lead the way, and they plunged down the slope towards the valley. The woods were shockingly cool compared to the bright sunshine of the plateau. Rodney tripped, but a quick hand to his shoulder steadied him and they charged on. Other teams flickered in and out of view as they too distributed through the woods. They passed a yellow-shirted marshal, who waved and flashed them a grin on their way past. Ronon kept them going until he reached the outer boundary, marked with bright slashes of paint on the trees extending off to both sides. 

"This is a good place," Ronon said, glancing around quickly. "Defensible, three potential exit paths, room to move." He whirled his staff a couple of times, testing the balance and verifying its reach. Rodney squeaked and jumped out of the way. Ronon bared his teeth in a grin, and Teyla turned her head to hide her smile. John smirked and swung his bantos, loosening his wrists pointedly. Rodney sighed but drew his own weapon, a long wooden sword modelled like a katana, similar to the practice swords he and Ronon used. He propped his shoulder against a tree, settling its blade comfortably against his shoulder. Teyla stepped away from them all and began to stretch. 

The red flare popped into the sky, barely visible through the tree branches. A loud crack accompanied its appearance, echoing painfully through John's head. Instinctively he ducked; out of the corner of his eye he saw the others also drop. He shook his head to clear it, finding himself on one knee, and wrenched back to his feet. 

A shriek to his left had him turning, lifting his bantos rod automatically to block his attacker. It was the Vegran team, and as quickly as that the fight was on. 

There were only three of them, all men, but they'd been fighting since the womb and John was immediately hard pressed to put up a defence. He blessed the hours of practice with Teyla that had his body responding instinctively to moves only half-perceived. His opponent was a close match to him in terms of size and weight, and was fighting with a quarterstaff that blurred in his hands. John ducked right, heard the end of the staff whistle past his ear, twisted his hips and brought both of his fighting sticks hard across his opponent's temple. The man staggered back, falling to the ground. He was out before he hit. John dropped to one knee to catch his breath, looking up in time to see Ronon whap his attacker in the centre of his forehead. The man's eyes crossed dramatically and he went down like a felled ox. Teyla stood over hers with a wide smile. Rodney had his wooden katana in his hand and hadn't even moved. 

"Well," said John, "That's the right way to start." 

* * *

After about two hours of near-constant fighting, John was dripping with sweat and getting pissed off. As usual, Rodney expressed his own mood perfectly, even as Ronon dispatched their final current attacker with a leg sweep and temple strike. 

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" 

Teyla smiled at him sweetly, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. "I believe it was the description of the first night's festivities, Rodney." 

Rodney flushed beet red and looked anywhere but at John. Ronon laughed. John shook his head. "And who exactly left those marks on poor Jacobs?" He grinned at Teyla's answering blush and swiped an arm across his forehead to dry it before taking out his canteen and draining half of it in one long set of swallows. 

"It is true," Teyla said, choosing to ignore John's comment with an arch look. "Most of the other teams will be eager to be the ones to defeat us. Atlantis does have a reputation for fighting, though it tends to be attributed to your advanced weapons." Her smile took on a predatory cast. "I believe that perception may change after this event." 

John took another quick swig from his canteen, wondering why he was still so damned thirsty. "Let's shift," he said brusquely, feeling a compulsion to move. "Maybe we can find some less crowded surroundings." 

Teyla led out on point, sliding through the forest with liquid grace. Rodney followed quietly with John bringing up their six. Ronon ranged out and around them. 

"Colonel!" 

Jacobs stepped out to block Teyla's path. Automatically she dropped into a defensive stance, and John shoved Rodney behind him. Jacobs held his hands up, as clearly nonthreatening as possible. His face was pale, his eyes wide. "Colonel, there is something you need to see." 

John moved up beside Teyla cautiously, leaving Rodney guarding their back. He couldn't see him but he knew Ronon was ranging up to his right, keeping Jacobs under surveillance and looking for the rest of his team. They were competing against each other, after all. "What is it, Sergeant?" Ronon drifted into view just long enough to shake his head, frowning. He melted back into the trees. "And where is your team?" 

"That's what you need to see, sir." Jacobs hadn't blinked. John wasn't even sure he was seeing anything, he looked so spooked. 

"All right," John said slowly. Jacobs' weird behaviour was freaking him out and making him wish fervently for his sidearm. He motioned for Jacobs to lead on, wondering what had knocked the normally unflappable sergeant so far off balance. 

Jacobs led them through the woods for over a hundred meters. As Jacobs slowed, John noted a lightening in the trees ahead that could indicate a possible clearing and a sickeningly familiar smell began tickling his nose. 

Copper, and bile, and sewage. The distinctive scent of blood and death. 

Behind them, Rodney gagged and swore softly. John glanced down; Teyla's face was tight and controlled. When they entered the clearing, Ronon was already there. 

There were bodies everywhere. 

They'd clearly died in battle. Their limbs were twisted awkwardly and they lay as they'd fallen. Most of the visible wounds were from crushing weapons, but John also clearly saw evidence of stabbing and tearing. The vegetation in the clearing was torn and broken. Jacobs' team had fought hard. Three Atlantis uniforms and six Pegasus natives made the roll call of the dead. Ronon rose from beside Sergeant Ames and shook his head. 

"I do not understand," Teyla said darkly. "This competition is not violent." 

John shot her a look that she had no difficult interpreting. Rodney stood at the edge of the clearing, still speechless with shock. 

"Not lethally violent," Teyla corrected, pressing the back of her wrist to her mouth. "You knew what I meant, John. This is very unexpected." She looked at the armbands worn by the dead natives. "Kerushan." 

"Not as unexpected as this." Ronon crouched on one knee beside a body that had fallen partially within the woods. He lifted a piece of fabric in illustration. It was bright yellow. One of the marshals. 

"What happened here?" John found his voice. It grated in his ears. 

Jacobs shook his head. "I... We were coming through the forest, looking for our next opportunity to kick some butt. We entered this clearing from the east. We weren't paying adequate attention, and we came across here fat and stupid." He closed his eyes. Teyla laid her hand on his arm encouragingly. "This team ambushed us. There were eight of them." His face twisted. "We took them down fast, sir, but they surprised us, and we hadn't expected that they were aiming for killing blows." His face went even paler. "They fought like they were at the last stand, sir." 

"Which?" The question came from Ronon. Jacobs looked at him helplessly. 

"Everyone," he said. 

John swallowed hard, staring at the uniforms of his people with burning eyes. "How did you survive?" 

Jacobs shook his head. "I don't know. I took a hit to the back of the head and then woke up to this." 

"There is something wrong here," Teyla said firmly. "Something very wrong." 

"She's right." 

Everyone turned to stare at Rodney. John had assumed that he'd hung back to avoid looking at the bodies, and undoubtedly he had, but he'd also taken out the modified life signs detector and was studying it closely. His face was pale, with hectic colour bright across his cheekbones. "The energy readings have increased. A lot." He looked up and pinned John with his gaze. "We're being manipulated." 

"How?" 

"I'm not entirely sure." Rodney bit his lip, tapped the screen purposefully. 

"Is it like the mist planet?" John demanded. 

"I don't know." 

"The Aurora?" Ronon spoke up. 

"I don't know!" 

It was Teyla's turn. "The wraith device that the Genii tampered with?" 

"I said I don't know! Look," Rodney fumbled for the right way to phrase what he was seeing. "There is definitely something here. I can't pinpoint a direction or device. It's not like the Aurora, because there were no stasis pods or interfaces. It's not like the mist planet, because we put a MALP through and there was nothing." One more vicious stab of his finger at the modified life signs detector and his eyebrows lifted. "Also, whatever it is, it's Ancient." 

Jacobs dropped to his knees in the grass, swaying. Teyla went to him and placed her hand on his shoulder to help steady him. He looked up at her dazedly. 

John went to stand at Rodney's shoulder. "How do you know?" 

"It's talking in Ancient." Rodney waved his hand at the display. "It's telling me something about how the exercise is... inelegant? Insufficient?" He paused. "I never, ever thought I would be complaining that we don't have a linguist on the team." 

"Rodney." 

"Yeah, yeah. Ok. Whatever this place is, it has some kind of program running. My guess is that it was initiated by our little ceremony this morning." Rodney ran a hand through his hair distractedly, making it stand up in little tufts all over his head. "Whatever it did, it's going to keep doing until the exit conditions are met. And one thing I can tell you?" He held up the screen for John to see better. It was in life-signs detector mode, and the little red dots were disappearing at a steady rate. "This is happening all over." 

"Is it real?" John growled. 

"I.." 

"Rodney! Is it _real_?" 

"I don't know! Look, this isn't a proper interface." Rodney looked at him for the first time since they'd reached the clearing. "I can't change anything with this. Do you understand me? I can't change _anything_." 

"You said it was manipulating us," Ronon said. "How?" 

John hadn't realised he'd pulled his bantos, but somehow it was in his hand when he lifted it to rub his forehead. He looked at it uncomprehendingly. 

"Like that," Rodney said. "And it's going to get worse." 

Teyla's voice shook slightly. "Everyone's going to be attacking each other." 

Rodney held up the life signs detector. “Everyone’s _already_ attacking each other.” 

Suddenly, Jacobs pitched over where he knelt in the grass. Teyla tried to catch him and missed, barely managing to shield his head before it hit the ground. John raced over, checked the sergeant's pulse with shaking fingers. There was nothing, and his hand came away wet with Jacobs' blood. He looked up and could feel the frustration tightening the muscles of his face. Ronon turned away and picked up his pack. 

"It might not be real," Rodney said desperately, coming up behind him. Ronon held him back with one hand on his shoulder, turning him a little and giving him a short push. "It might ... it might not be real." 

"Right now, Rodney, that doesn't really make me feel better," John growled, stalking past him and ducking under the first tree branches. 

"No," he heard Rodney answer quietly. "No, me either." 

He strode blindly through the trees, frustration reeling through him. Hot rage raced along his veins. God, all he wanted to do was hammer the living shit out of someone. He could _feel_ the need for violence beating through him with every beat of his pulse. It pushed at the inside of his head insistently, shoving at him. 

When the enemy leaped out at them from a nest of pines, it was a relief to turn on them. He moved through them like water through rocks, his bantos whirling in his hands. A strangled noise behind him had him spinning in place, dropping to one knee as a quarterstaff swung through the air over his head. Rodney was down, sprawled awkwardly against the base of a tree. John lunged forward into a roll to avoid another strike, raging back to his feet and taking out his attacker with two full force hammer blows to his temple. 

"Ronon!" Teyla's shout brought him around, the battle fury rising in his chest and choking off his breath. 

Ronon was lying face down, his limbs loose and limp. He was surrounded by fallen attackers. Teyla knelt at his head, her hands fluttering uncertainly. Rodney was halfway to them, trying to reach them with a staggering crawl that would have been funny under other circumstances. Teyla finally placed her hands on Ronon's shoulders and rolled him with a grunt. She recoiled. Rodney retched. 

John dropped to his knees. His hand shook as he reached towards Ronon's neck, knowing already that it was too late. The bone of Ronon's neck glistened wetly in the afternoon light. John gritted his teeth against the relentless pressure in his head and forced himself back to his feet. 

"Come on," he said harshly. His fingers clenched around the shoulder of Rodney's TAC vest as he hauled him roughly upright. Teyla rose as well, her cheeks wet but her eyes hard. She stared down at Ronon and blinked once, hard. 

"This might not be real." Her voice was brittle. When he didn't answer, she whirled on Rodney. "This _might not be real_ ," she said fiercely. 

"Move out," John said. 

* * *

It all became a blur when they lost Teyla. John saw her fall out of the corner of his eye, saw the whirl of the bolos as they narrowly missed his head before the string caught Teyla at neck height. The heavy wooden balls spun with incredible speed, choking off her breath before thudding into the side of her head with a sickening crack. She fell like a marionette with all the strings cut, in an ungainly sprawl of limbs. It seemed impossible that such complete gracelessness could be _Teyla_. 

There were three attackers, two women and a man. John went after them in a blur of strikes. He was distantly aware of Rodney beside him, fighting with a ferocity and ability that would have been surprising if John had had enough time to think about it. Instead he was simply vaguely impressed as Rodney slammed his wooden katana into the bridge of his opponent's nose, sending her tumbling either unconscious or dead. Given the lack of blood, John was betting on dead. He tripped the remaining woman, smashed his elbow into the man's throat, and dropped to one knee to finish the woman off by the simple expedient of breaking her neck. 

When he rose, Rodney was already at Teyla's side, checking her pulse. He shook his head, and John covered his eyes with his hand, trying for calm. He could still feel the insistent thrum of whatever _thing_ was driving them, shoving at the back of his mind, trying to make him move. 

Rodney stood, his face frozen. He pulled out his life signs detector and glanced at it. "Not many of us left," he said. His voice was a little slurred, as if it was an effort to talk. "All heading back towards the gate." 

John nodded, vibrating with the need to get moving. "Towards the gate." He refused to look down. One glance at the ruin of Teyla's face had been enough. The buzzing in his head was urging him to give in, to just let go completely to the gestalt of battle. The rest of his mind was agreeing if it meant he would never have to see the images of Teyla and Ronon dead at his feet ever again. 

Rodney was staring down at her again, his forehead creased as if he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. His left hand was flexing restlessly at his side, his right clenched so tightly around the life signs detector that the skin over his knuckles had bled right through white to a pale yellow. 

"It might not be real," he said, and it sounded like a prayer. 

John said, "I don't care." He relaxed his restraint, and the buzzing in his head took it all away. 

* * *

Rodney was shaking him, and shouting. John blinked up at him uncomprehending, but let himself be dragged back to his feet. "... at the gate," the words finally resolved themselves. Rodney let him go when it seemed that John was able to stand on his own. He looked down and saw that he was standing on the hand of a dark-haired man with his head bashed in. Carefully, he stepped off of it, ignoring the blood coating his clothes and the gore on the bantos rod clutched tightly in Rodney's hand. Wetness dripped down his face and John realised it was raining. He reached up and brought away fingers dark with blood. The rain splattered against the blood, making tiny flesh coloured circles within the thick red. He blinked and swayed, trying to focus on what Rodney was saying. His head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton wool, with that alien insistence pushing at it. It wouldn't be long before it took him again. 

"... won't fucking _dial_!" Rodney sounded half way between fury and hysteria. He lifted the bantos rod threateningly over the DHD, as if he was about to take out all his rage on the device. At the last moment he threw it away instead, howling his frustration. 

"Simulation?" John managed to choke out. The world spun around him and he staggered a little. Rodney was at his side a moment later, supporting him. 

"Right." Rodney pulled out the life signs detector and poked at it. "We're the only life signs left." His voice cracked, but when he continued he'd regained control. "Simulation... inelegant? What the fuck?" He shook the device as if it would shake loose a different answer. 

"Incomplete," John told him. The buzzing was gaining force behind his eyes. 

"Incom..." Rodney froze beside him, eyes wide. "Oh, hell." 

"I'm not going to do it, Rodney," John told him firmly. He closed his eyes, trying to gain control over the increasing pressure in his head. It was telling him he needed to fight. He dropped his weapons with a supreme exercise of will, gasping with the effort. He kicked them away. "I won't." The soldier part of his mind reminded him of all the ways to kill someone just using his hands and he took a big step forward, wrapping Rodney in a bear hug and holding him close, where his hands couldn't get away from him against his will. 

Rodney hugged him back. He could feel the fighting stick against his back and the buzzing intensified into a frenzy, desperate to get away from the threat. He clenched his teeth and hung on. Rodney threw away the rod and just held him close, breathing hard. He pulled back just enough that John could see his face. It held an expression John had never seen before, a mix of love and fury, resignation and determination. He felt a tug at his side. 

"Then I have to," Rodney said, raindrops dripping from his eye lashes. His eyes were lit by a brilliant flash of lightning, electric blue against the pale whiteness of his face. He drew back further, and John saw the flash of steel in his hand. John's knife. "This _isn't real_." 

Rodney closed his eyes and stabbed John in the chest. Just under the sternum, angled up, a perfect heart shot. John felt the thud all the way through his body and opened his mouth to gasp, but there was no breath to take. Rain filled his mouth and he started to sink to his knees, but Rodney was there, holding him up, hugging him close. He was screaming beside John's ear, something in Ancient. 

Just before he died, John realised the buzzing was gone. 

* * *

Much to his surprise, he woke. 

More accurately, he gasped awake, both hands flying to his chest and flailing for the knife he knew was sticking out of it. he encountered nothing but the canvas of his TAC vest. No blood, no knife. Rain drizzled down on him. 

He was at the gate. 

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he breathed. With an effort that felt superhuman he sat up. His whole body revolted at the movement and he turned onto his knees, dry heaving. 

A heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder, providing him some much needed support. A water bottle waved at the edge of his vision, and John took it with a mumbled thanks. He looked up, more glad to see Ronon standing beside him than he could remember being, ever. Ronon moved a little, offering his leg for John to lean on. Gratefully John took advantage, fumbling open the water. 

"McKay says we're dehydrated," Ronon told him. "Put some tablets in. Doesn't taste very good, but you need it. Drink up." 

John grimaced but obeyed. The mildly metallic tang flooded his mouth and he managed to swallow rather than heave again. He twisted the lid back on and patted Ronon's boot. "Good to see you." 

Ronon was looking away, over towards where Rodney was tinkering with his life signs detector again. "You too." 

Yeah. 

John struggled to his feet, relieved beyond expression to see Teyla sitting nearby. She looked as though she was trying to meditate, though her hand kept drifting to her temple. As if sensing his regard, her eyes opened. The haunted look in them made something hurt deep inside, but pleasure chased the shadows away and she gave him her gorgeous beaming smile. "John." 

Rodney's head came up and he looked over, every emotion he was feeling written all over his face. Immediately he looked away, but John had already seen the guilt. He stabbed a finger at his life signs detector viciously, and a moment later the sky rumbled angrily. The clouds lightened suddenly, as if a searchlight were playing on them from orbit. From the savagely satisfied set of Rodney's jaw, John guessed that whatever had been influencing was now a glittering fall of dust. 

He took the few steps to Teyla, offering her a hand. She took it and let him pull her to her feet and into an uncharacteristic hug. It hadn't been real. _It hadn't been real._ Teyla felt so small in his arms that he felt a rush of remembered anxiety, but then she moved and the smooth muscle under his hands reminded him that she could kick his ass any day and twice on Sundays. 

John stepped back and looked around, properly reviewing their status for the first time. People were grouped in small clusters, mostly huddled together. There was a lot of touching and reassurance going on. John could relate. 

"Atlantis is sending assistance," Teyla told him softly, following his thoughts. "They will be here soon. Until then, I believe we should stay and help." 

"Woolsey said he wanted us back soon as Sheppard woke up," Ronon said. 

"Since when do we follow orders?" Rodney demanded from _right beside him_ , and John hadn't even realised he was there. He spun towards the voice, recoiling automatically and putting his hands up defensively. Rodney stepped back fast, eyes wide with a complicated mixture of guilt and surprise. 

"Sorry," John said, trying to retrieve the situation. "Uh - you took me by surprise there, Rodney." 

"Ha." Ronon slapped Rodney in the shoulder, making him flinch. "First time for everything, right, McKay?" 

"Not really the first time," John said without thinking, rubbing his hand over his chest. Rodney's face closed down, and Ronon and Teyla exchanged a wordless look that spoke volumes. Rodney'd told them what happened. 

"You know what? Do what you want," Rodney said, finally breaking the silence. "I'm going home." 

He headed for the DHD and suited action to words. Wordlessly the others followed, careful not to meet each others' eyes. 

* * *

"And then you killed Colonel Sheppard." 

"Yes. It was the only way to end the simulation, and I knew that Colonel Sheppard would not kill me, even under duress." Rodney stared at the wall over Woolsey's head. "If the events in the simulation weren't real, then everyone would be ok. If the events _were_ real, then once the AI felt it was complete I would be able to dial the gate and get help, hopefully in time to save the Colonel's life." 

"And if you hadn't been able to dial?" Woolsey asked curiously. 

"Then I would have died there." 

"Luckily, the AI released the gate, and it was a completely virtual simulation." Radek spoke into the heavy silence. "The participants were unharmed beyond some minor dehydration." 

Ronon snorted. John agreed with him. _Unharmed_. Right. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to look at Ronon and not see that gaping throat wound in the back of his mind, ever again. 

"It was a space station," Rodney told Woolsey tonelessly. "Once the simulation completed, the controls came back online and I was able to instruct it to shut down until a specific reactivation code is provided." 

"It was a training base for Ancient soldiers," Radek interjected enthusiastically. "They could play any variation of training scenarios. Wraith were the typical opponents, but there were Ancient wars as well. Also, it was used occasionally to train human forces. It is quite brilliant. That is why they described it as 'good hunting'. Someone had a sense of humour." 

"Are there possible applications for training Earth forces?" Woolsey asked. 

"No," Rodney said. 

"Why not?" 

"Because it won't be there," John said into the silence. Woolsey lifted an eyebrow. 

"When I set the code," Rodney said, refusing to look at anyone, "I accidentally tripped a fail safe. The station self destructed." 

Teyla rubbed her cheek in a gesture that had become a habit, as if checking that everything was still there. It hurt John every time he saw it. Of the team, only Ronon didn't look away. "For myself, I am glad the station no longer exists," she said strongly. "I did not enjoy the sensation of dying, nor that of being driven to violence by an alien influence." 

Ronon spoke up. "We're better off without it." 

"Well then," Woolsey said with a small smile. "I guess everything has been said. Dismissed." 

Rodney was up and out of the room like a shot. In unison, Teyla and Ronon looked at John as if to say, 'fix this'. John sighed. 

He caught up with Rodney outside one of the balconies, and hustled him sideways through the door with a body check that would have made an NHL defenceman proud. Rodney squawked, then when he saw who it was he backed up to the very edge of the balcony. 

John gritted his teeth. "You don't have any reason to be afraid of me," he growled. 

"I'm not," Rodney told him. 

"Then, what?" John put all his frustration into the question. Rodney winced. The silence stretched until John was ready to physically shake Rodney into speech. He took a step. 

"I just don't know what to say!" Rodney burst out, hands waving madly. "I _killed_ you! And before that... before that..." He broke off, choking on the words. 

John frowned, but let him struggle through it. 

"Before that, I took advantage of you. That night, when we were... together, I felt the influence of the AI. I knew it was out of character, and I let it happen anyway! How the hell are you ever going to be able to trust me again?" Rodney clenched his hands and looked as though he wanted to jump off the balcony rather than face John. 

John took a long step forward and gripped Rodney's shoulder in his hand. He squeezed, _hard_. If Rodney was going to make him say this, he sure as hell wasn't going to say it twice. 

"You did the right thing," he started. "You took a risk - a big one - but it was the right one. I couldn't have done it in your place. I'm proud of you for that." He drew his knife and placed it in Rodney's hand, closing his fingers around it firmly. "I trust you." Rodney sagged in his hand, and John released the knife to take hold of Rodney's other shoulder. "As for the night before... Well. Maybe there was influence. But right now, I don't see how that matters." 

Rodney gaped at him. "You don't... You... It matters!" He spluttered furiously. 

"Rodney," John said firmly, giving him a little shake. " _Right now_ , it doesn't. Because _right now_ , I'm not under any influence but my own." He waited long enough for Rodney to blink in confusion before pulling him close and taking his mouth with focused intensity. Rodney struggled for a second, then seemed to realise what was happening and threw himself into the kiss. The knife clattered to the ground beside them. 

"Oh," Rodney said when they finally came up for air. His hands patted John's back uncertainly as if unsure where to land. John held him close. 

"This time," he said, "it's real." 

-30-

* * *


End file.
